darkbluedreams
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Will raises his eyebrows. “Is that why you came in here?” he repeats, looking back down at the blue flannel. “To ask me about the weather in Lenora?”
“Kind of,” Mike says, and then, “well no, not about the weather specifically. I just– I wanted to talk to you.”
“Oh.” And Will looks a lot more surprised at this, actually, than the idea that Mike might have just wanted to come to his room to make small talk about unseasonably frigid California winters. “Okay. What about?”
“Anything.” The response is embarrassingly immediate. “Everything. I don’t know. I missed you.”
Hawkins, 1986. The world is ending, there are too many people in Mike's house, and to top it all off, he and Will have some things to talk through.
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“You’re not boning, though, right?” he says, suddenly. He doesn’t know why he feels such an urge to bring it up again, as if the thought of Mike boning is not something that is CODE RED #1 at the top of Will's list of things to absolutely never think about. But also. Look–
“What? No, of course I’m not boning,” Mike splutters, turning a violent shade of scarlet, “how would I even hide that from you, I’m with you all the time–”
And then he falls silent, so fast that Will gets tonal whiplash from how fast Mike just went from saying boning over and over again to just clamping his mouth shut and staring at the wall across from them.
Will's trying his hardest to make it through fall semester in one piece. Unfortunately for his degree, he's being haunted by maybe-feelings for his best friend (metaphorically), and also a maybe-ghost with rather abysmal fashion sense (literally).
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Will moves back to an upright position, wiping his hair out of his eyes, head and shoulders peeking above the water. “Mike,” he says, pulling Mike up with him, their fingers still intertwined.
“Yeah?” Mike says, tilting his head so the water trickles out of his ears, wincing slightly. “What is it?”
Will’s eyes dart back and forth between his, and then Mike feels his hand squeeze his own. “I don’t want you to, like, think I moved back for you,” he starts, which in and of itself would be enough to get Mike’s soul soaring straight out of his own body, if it weren’t for Will’s thumb pressed against his pulse point like some kind of mortal tether. “Because it’s not like that, I promise. But I think– I think I realized there’s a difference between things you want and things you need, you know?”
mike wheeler on losing people and having them again, the difference between wanting and needing, and finally letting go.
ft. robin buckley, will byers, and the mortifying ordeal of working in the food service industry
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Will lets out a small squawk as Mike’s hand— his very cold, very freezing hand— finds its way around the blankets and under his sweater. “I’m sick, you weirdo,” he says, half-laughing into the side of Mike’s head, “I have a fever.”
“I don’t care,” Mike mumbles, “you’re warm and I’m cold. This is nice.”
“You’re going to get sick,” Will tries, for the umpteenth time, but it’s pointless. Mike Wheeler is stubborn and hardheaded and he never does anything halfway— not even this.
Will gets sick. He's dealing with it. Seriously, Mike- he's fine.
(or: a study in intimacy.) -
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mike and will are secretly dating in the epilogue and they're absolutely obsessed with each other.